


One Time John was Confused, and One Time Sherlock Enlightened Him

by erebones



Series: In the Springtime when the Bees are Buzzing [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, M/M, a fluffy ending because i felt guilty, feel free to tack this on to the end of any death-fic you encounter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-11 23:16:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/483971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erebones/pseuds/erebones





	One Time John was Confused, and One Time Sherlock Enlightened Him

Everything was white, and sort of floaty. Sherlock put his hands on his hips and snorted. “If this is the afterlife, I’m sorely disappointed. What’s next? Cherubs with fluffy wings and harps?”

“Sherlock? Is that you?”

Sherlock whirled, searching the formless mist for the source of the voice. “John?”

He appeared slowly, a faint, vibrating outline of pale form against the blanketing white fog. Sherlock’s heart squeezed inside him, and he gasped. It was John, but it was _more_ than John. The sharp hunch of age was gone, and he stood straight and proud with the stance of a soldier. His hands were tucked neatly in his pockets, wrinkling the slightly baggy jumper that wrapped around his sturdy frame, and his short hair was brushed back from an unlined forehead. Well, scratch that. It was lined, but with confusion, not with age.

“Sherlock? Is it really you?” The furrow between John’s dark eyes deepened, and he took a hesitant step closer.

Sherlock looked down at himself, and grinned. Gone was the stoop that had taken three inches off his height. Gone was the arthritis, the consumptive concave hollow of his stomach, the tremble in his right leg that had plagued him for an entire decade after he’d taken a tumble on his way to tending the hives. He flexed his knees experimentally, and he knew.

“Yes.” Sherlock looked up, and held out his arms. “Really, honestly.”

Slowly the confusion bled from John’s ethereal face, and as Sherlock watched, his form began to solidify until he could stop forward and wrap him arms around the taller man, burying his nose into his collar.

“You _smell_ like you,” John mumbled, voice rumbling through Sherlock’s body.

“I told you, you idiot,” Sherlock said fondly. “It’s me. And you are you. And this… Where are we? I hadn’t thought we’d be destined for Heaven with all that delightful gay sex we had over the years.”

John burst into a peal of surprised laughter. “No, I don’t think this is Heaven. Not enough cherubs.”

“That’s good. I wasn’t looking forward to them, anyway.” Sherlock grinned, feeling the elastic give and stretch of his youthful skin, and squeezed John tighter with all the strength of his arms. “What do you say we find out where we are?”

“I think that’s acceptable.” John drew back far enough to catch Sherlock mouth in an open, tender kiss. “C’mon, then. Let’s go see what’s behind all this fog, hey?”

“All right.” Sherlock spared one regretful glance for John’s sweet, smiling mouth, and clasped the army doctor’s hand in his. “Let’s go exploring.”


End file.
